


Compatible Heat

by LeapAngstily



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Awkward Crush, Cliché A Week 2021, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28559154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapAngstily/pseuds/LeapAngstily
Summary: There is an overbooking in the Junior National Team's hotel, but luckily for the poor receptionist, Riccardo and Giorgio are being nice and volunteer to share a double.
Relationships: Giorgio Chiellini/Riccardo Montolivo, Riccardo Montolivo & Giampaolo Pazzini
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Compatible Heat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheBlackWook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackWook/gifts).



> Happy belated birthday Ceci!! I worked really hard to get this done before the day changed where you are, but alas, I was still a bit late.
> 
> A fill for my [Cliché A Week 2021](https://montocalypse.tumblr.com/post/639385324574900225) challenge, Week #1: "There was only one bed"
> 
> Set in autumn 2005, when Monto, Chiello and Pazzo were all playing for the Italy U21. I'm working on a longer story on the same vein as this one, but I have no idea when it will be ready to go out, so this is all you get for now. Please show it the appreciation it deserves -- I rarely write fluff but when I do, it's always Chiello/Monto.

“What’s taking them so long?” Riccardo whispers to Giampaolo as he slides next to him in the hotel lobby, successfully startling his friend who is busy fiddling with his phone, probably texting his girlfriend.

The team manager is talking with the receptionist, gesturing wildly and occasionally pointing at the youth players flocking the reception area.

“Some kinda double booking,” Giampaolo answers with a shrug, “seems like they don’t have enough twin rooms available. Someone needs to share a double.”

“So? We could do it, wouldn’t be the first time—” Riccardo starts but Giampaolo shoots him a withering look that shuts him up.

“I’m _not_ sharing a bed with you.” Giampaolo gives a theatrical shiver of terror. “I’m still recovering from the last time, you tentacle monster.”

Riccardo pouts, because he is not _that_ bad. He just gets cold easily and Giampaolo happens to be very warm. He doesn’t say anything out loud though, because one of their teammates is already joking about tentacle porn and Riccardo would rather that joke died down sooner rather than later.

Marino quickly raises his hands when Riccardo turns his attention to his former Atalanta teammate. “Don’t look at me man, I’ve seen the way you sleep!” He glances over his shoulder at the reception desk. “But Chiellini apparently volunteered. If you’re into that.”

Riccardo’s face lights up immediately as he searches the room for the Juventus player. He rarely gets to spend time with Giorgio, who is already in the men’s national team rotation, so he had completely forgotten he had another option for a roommate.

“Teacher’s pet at it again, huh?” Giampaolo mutters under his breath, so quiet only Riccardo hears him, “You really deserve him, Ricky; he’s like the only person aside from you who’d happily volunteer just to get the receptionist off the hook.”

Riccardo pokes his side. “Don’t be mean, Giampi. He’s just being nice. And it’s not the receptionist’s fault.”

Giampaolo pokes him right back, much harder than Riccardo did. Riccardo lets out an indignant huff and slaps his hands away before heading to the reception where he has located the familiar hooked nose.

(Riccardo used to hate Giorgio’s nose – it reminded him of his own, less than perfect, beak – but the more he looks at it, the more it seems to fit the defender’s face.

Only Riccardo will ever know how much he has been looking.)

“Giooorgio,” Riccardo chirps happily as he throws an arm around the man’s shoulders, “wanna sleep with me?”

Riccardo revels in the flush that immediately spreads over Giorgio’s face, as he sputters to find an appropriate response before settling for a sheepish, “Sorry, what?”

“Heard you’re looking for a roomie – I happen to be a great one!” Riccardo beams at him innocently, squeezing his shoulder.

“Oh,” understanding flashes over Giorgio’s features but the flush doesn’t go down, “yeah, sure, I’d love that.”

“Perfect!” Riccardo skips over to the exasperated team manager to give him the good news.

“Oh, and if you’re looking for other volunteers, I’m sure Giampi and Marino won’t mind,” he quips as the manager hands him the key card for Giorgio and his room.

He grabs a hold of Giorgio’s arm and pulls him towards the elevators before Giampaolo has a chance to yell at him to stop volunteering him for unnecessary shit. He will thank Riccardo when he gets another call-up later in the season.

* * *

Giorgio doesn’t know how it happened.

Riccardo asked to room with him, and Giorgio said yes, like an idiot.

He also said yes to sharing a bed with Riccardo, apparently, a fact that dawns to him only once they are inside the room.

Sure, Giorgio had said he was fine doing it, if it meant dividing the rooms would be easier. It was getting late, after all, and they have an early training session scheduled for tomorrow. But he had _not_ meant he was fine doing it with Riccardo.

Except he had still agreed to it, hadn’t he?

“This is nice, you think they gave us an upgrade because they fucked up?” Riccardo has thrown himself in the middle of the queen-sized bed, arms and legs spread in a way that doesn’t promise anything good for Giorgio’s good night’s sleep – or sanity, for that matter.

“I guess it makes sense,” Giorgio’s answer comes out belatedly, once he manages to drag his eyes off the sliver of skin revealed by Riccardo’s T-shirt that has ridden up.

He sets his bag down by the closest nightstand and then picks up Riccardo’s bag forgotten in the entryway, moving it to a more sensible position next to the bed. “Do you want the window side or the bathroom side? I don’t mind either way…”

“You choose. You’re always so nice, it doesn’t hurt to give your opinion every once in a while.” Riccardo sits up, blue eyes meeting Giorgio’s squarely. Giorgio is grateful the shirt is back in its proper place, though Riccardo’s legs are still spread less than decently.

“I guess,” he mumbles, pointing at the side where he just left his bag, “I’ll take this one then. If you don’t mind?”

Riccardo flashes him a wide smile. His front teeth are too big for his mouth, a feature Giorgio had always thought he would grow out of, but it turns out a 20-year-old Riccardo is just as cute as the 13-year-old he first met at a junior training camp.

“You might find out the side doesn’t really matter, though,” Riccardo then tells him, “Full disclosure: I’m a very clingy sleeper. Or that’s what Giampi says, anyways.”

 _Now_ he says it. Not that Giorgio would have been able to refuse the offer, considering his brain had short-circuited the moment the idea of ‘sleeping with’ Riccardo had entered it.

“…I hope you don’t mind?” Riccardo asks in a more subdued tone, and Giorgio can just make out a soft blush on his cheeks. “I just got excited when I realized I could room with you. I’m sure Giampi will agree to switch if I—”

“No!” Giorgio interrupts him, only realizing after the fact that he is probably coming across overly eager. “I mean, it’s fine. I don’t mind. As long as you don’t mind my snoring – the downside of breaking my nose one time too many, you know...”

Riccardo beams at him and shakes his head, cementing Giorgio’s fate of sharing a bed with a ‘very clingy’ Riccardo. His brain malfunctions again at the idea.

“I’m— I’ll go take a shower and brush my teeth. It’s getting late, we should really go to bed soon.”

Here he goes, digging a deeper grave for himself.

He can feel Riccardo’s eyes following him as he escapes into the bathroom.

* * *

Giorgio is already curled up on his side of the bed when Riccardo exits the bathroom, toweling his hair.

He looks far too tense to be asleep, but Riccardo lets him pretend. He feels almost bad for dragging Giorgio into this – Riccardo is not blind, he can tell the defender would have preferred to share the bed with anyone else on the team over him – but the vague feeling of guilt is not enough to push him into Giampaolo’s bed.

Giampaolo’s texts threatening to lock him out in the hallway have nothing to do with it. Giampaolo is a big softie who loves Riccardo too much to go through with his threat.

Riccardo throws the towel haphazardly over the back of a chair and slips under the covers on his side of the bed, by the large window. Giorgio has already closed the curtains and dimmed the lights, with only Riccardo’s bedside lamp still on. He is probably the most considerate roommate Riccardo has ever had.

He checks his phone one last time, replies to Giampaolo’s latest text (“g’night tentacle monster, dont strangle poor chiello”) with a miffed “i hate you <3” and turns off the light.

Riccardo lies still for a long while, wondering if it’s OK to wish Giorgio sweet dreams or if he should let him keep pretending to be asleep. Finally, he decides to go for it, reasoning to himself that Giorgio can just stay silent if he thinks talking to Riccardo will ruin the illusion.

“Giorgio?” he whispers, turning to his side so he can see the dark shape of Giorgio’s shoulder on the other side of the bed. Giorgio seems to tense even more, but he hums out an acknowledgement. “Sleep well. I’ll try not to crowd you too badly.”

Giorgio lets out a heavy sigh and then he rolls to his back, face turned towards Riccardo. Riccardo can just make out his expression in the dim light coming in through a crack between the curtains.

“I really don’t mind,” Giorgio says, and Riccardo can hear the sheepish smile more than he can see it, “crowd me all you want, if that’s what makes you comfortable.”

That gives Riccardo a pause. Giorgio had seemed so uncomfortable when he first saw the double bed, Riccardo had thought he would ask to switch rooms right away, but now he’s telling Riccardo—

“You really mean it?” Riccardo must confirm, because it might be just his own wistful thinking, “I really wasn’t exaggerating – Giampi started calling me an octopus after he first slept over at mine.”

Giorgio lets out a soft chuckle before he lifts his blanket and stretches an arm over to Riccardo’s side, creating a very comfortable-looking spot in the crook of his arm. Light catches in his eyes and Riccardo thinks he might look anxious. Or maybe that’s just Riccardo projecting.

Riccardo shifts closer, keeping an eye on Giorgio for any kind of change in his demeanor. “No takebacks. Once I get comfortable you won’t get away.”

Giorgio smiles and pulls the blanket completely out of the way. “Better get it over with then. I mean, if it’s going to happen anyways...”

Riccardo’s heart is hammering against his ribcage as he carefully closes the distance between them and plasters himself against Giorgio’s side.

He has never cuddled anyone _before_ falling asleep. Usually, he wakes up sometime during the night to find himself wrapped around whatever poor soul happened to fall asleep next to him – not counting that one unforgettable time when Giampaolo woke him up by trying to kick him off the bed, only to end up on the floor with him because Riccardo’s koala-hold had been too strong.

Giorgio pulls the covers over them both and wraps his arm tentatively around Riccardo’s shoulders. Riccardo holds his breath until he can hear Giorgio exhale, and then he slowly relaxes into the half-embrace. Giorgio is wearing a clean T-shirt, one of the _Azzurri_ ones, and Riccardo nuzzles his nose against the fabric experimentally.

Giorgio is still tense. Riccardo can feel his heart racing against his cheek. However, he only tightens his hold when Riccardo tries to pull back and give him some space, so Riccardo quickly settles back into his spot, burying himself deeper between the blankets and Giorgio’s warm body.

“Good night, Giorgio,” he whispers into the hug, smiling against the firm chest. He could get used to this.

“Sweet dreams, Riccardo,” Giorgio replies, and then Riccardo thinks there might be a kiss pressed against the top of his head, though the touch is gone so soon he is left wondering.

“They will be,” Riccardo mouths silently, only to himself, but from the way Giorgio is starting to relax, it almost seems like his cuddle-buddy hears him.

* * *

Giorgio wakes up feeling warm.

From the blue light filtering through the curtains, he guesses it must be morning, but his alarm hasn’t gone off yet and he can’t move to check the clock because of the gangly body wrapped around his.

Riccardo’s head is nestled in the crook of Giorgio’s neck, his tangled mess of a hair tickling his chin.

Riccardo is lying half on top of him, one leg wrapped firmly over his thighs and both arms around his midsection. Giorgio has no idea how he managed to sneak his arm under his body when Giorgio hasn’t changed his own position at all from when he fell asleep, after lying awake for hours listening to Riccardo’s breathing.

Giorgio’s arm – the same one that he used to hug Riccardo in the evening – is wrapped securely around his waist, palm pressed against the small of his back. Giorgio uses his free hand to push Riccardo’s hair off his face, but then it stays there, gently petting the unruly curls.

It registers in Giorgio’s mind that Riccardo went to sleep on wet hair, and he will probably regret it once he wakes up. For someone who claims not to care what he looks like on the pitch, Riccardo always spends ridiculous amounts of time fixing his hair before matches.

He presses his palm against the nape of Riccardo’s neck, flattening the tangled strands of hair against the warm skin. Riccardo lets out a pleased hum, startling Giorgio into almost moving his hand away, but he doesn’t wake up.

Giorgio had thought sleeping like this would feel hot and clammy, like he has always felt with his previous girlfriends, but Riccardo’s body over his is only pleasantly warm.

A matter of compatible body heat, perhaps?

Considering how much Giorgio was panicking last night, the warm comfort of the morning feels almost anticlimactic.

He had thought Riccardo would for sure figure out why he was so uncomfortable over the prospect of sleeping in the same bed. He had expected, until the moment Riccardo finally pressed up against his side, that he would opt to call Pazzini and go sleep in his room.

“If you only knew,” he whispers into the silent room and dips his chin down to kiss the top of Riccardo’s head. It feels different now – warm and soft – from how it did the previous night when his hair was still damp. Giorgio likes both versions.

Riccardo grumbles in his sleep – it kind of sounds like, “Know what?” – but then he only rolls over Giorgio to lie fully on top of him and plops down with a contented sigh.

Giorgio knows there is no escaping Riccardo’s clutches without waking him up, so he only wraps his arms tighter around Riccardo and closes his eyes, waiting for sleep to claim him or his alarm to go off, whichever comes first.

Giorgio could get used to this.


End file.
